


Castle

by Widowswebb



Series: hellcat [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face-Sitting, Female Reader, Getting Together, Jabba's Palace (Star Wars), Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, No Pregnancy, Not Beta Read, Older Man/Younger Woman, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Reunions, Sassy Reader, Squirting, Throne Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Woman on Top, boba fett simp hours are 24/7, excessive use of princess, no y/n, this is filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29050968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Widowswebb/pseuds/Widowswebb
Summary: “I’m here, mesh’la, I’m here,” he murmurs gently into your hair, one hand coming up to grasp the back of your neck. You pull back, but only far enough to look up into his face.“How? How are you here?” You ask, eyes wide. You remember sitting in the cantina as someone recounted the events at the Pit of Carkoon, how the deadly bounty hunter Boba Fett had fallen to his demise. “Maker, how are you alive?”Alternatively: Boba Fett survives the pit, finds the reader, and gives the palace a queen.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader, Boba Fett/You
Series: hellcat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129316
Comments: 14
Kudos: 109





	1. valley of the king

You never thought you would miss Tatooine. 

It’s been two years since you hopped a cargo freighter and left, making your way through the Outer Rim until you’d ended up on some long forgotten moon that boasted only widespread settlements of self-sustaining villages. It’s quiet, far more so than Tatooine ever was, but it’s the quiet that makes living here difficult sometimes.

As it was, you were currently picking through the dense vegetation of the forest floor, eyes searching for the herb you were desperate to find. You’d established yourself as a village healer, good with your hands and even better with herbs and salves. Someone had a rash you were certain could be made better if you could just find that kriffing plant.

A ship flies low overhead and you tip your head up, watching as its shadow passes the forest floor. Cargo freighters come through on a reliable schedule, and the next one isn’t expected for another cycle. 

Weird.

You return to your task, dedicating another 20 minutes to crawling through the dirt before you give up. The sun is starting to set and you’re losing light quickly, anyways. You sigh, standing and brushing off what dirt isn’t absolutely embedded in your leggings before making your way out of the forest and back to the village. 

It’s another 40 minutes before you’re at the edge of the little settlement. The sun has completely set by now, the only light being cast by the windows of the homes and a large fire that several people have gathered around. You throw a wave towards the group and a young woman named Kalie jogs over to you.

“You’ve got a visitor,” she says. You raise your eyebrows at her to continue. “Very cryptic. Said he knew you once.”

“That’s not suspicious,” you laugh. She smiles before telling you he’s waiting for you at the building you take appointments at. You thank her before heading that direction, rather than home. 

Light spills from the window as you approach the little grey building. You’ve got one hand on the blade at your hip as you open the door. You might be a healer now, but old habits die hard.

You’re frozen in the doorway as you take in the man sitting across from you. The green beskar helmet appraises you and a voice you’d only been acquainted with once but have been haunted by for years crackles through the vocoder.

“Hello, princess.”

You’re frozen to your spot. There’s just...no way it’s him. 

“Who the fuck are you? Where did you get that armor?” 

The man stands and you tighten your hand on your blade. He’s broad, more so than you remember him being, and the picture he cuts in the small space is intimidating. You’re still waiting for an answer, but he stands there silently.

For all that the years after escaping the sarlacc pit have changed him, you’re just as beautiful and fiery as he remembers. 

His hands come up to remove the helmet and you’re left staring at a ghost. Boba Fett stands before you, same green beskar and deadly countenance, but a whole new man. He no longer has the thick brown hair you remember, but the same brown eyes stare back at you as he watches your reaction. He’s paler than before, but the same strong jaw is crossed with new, deeper scars. 

“It’s really you,” you whisper, blade dropping out of your grip and falling to the floor with a clang. He shifts his weight, placing his helmet on the ground. When he stands, he throws his shoulders back in an approximation of confidence he doesn’t necessarily feel.

“Yes. I must look different than you remember from years -,” he starts before you’re moving, closing the space between the two of you, throwing your arms around his shoulders and clinging tightly, burying your face in his neck and inhaling the scent of soap and blaster residue. He’s knocked off balance for a second before his arms come around to crush you to his chest. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care, you’re here, you’re alive,” you babble, tears stinging your vision. His nose presses to the crown of your head. 

“I’m here, mesh’la, I’m here,” he murmurs gently into your hair, one hand coming up to grasp the back of your neck. You pull back, but only far enough to look up into his face. 

“How? How are you  _ here _ ?” You ask, eyes wide. You remember sitting in the cantina as someone recounted the events at the Pit of Carkoon, how the deadly bounty hunter Boba Fett had fallen to his demise. “Maker, how are you  _ alive _ ?”

“My armor managed to keep me mostly unharmed long enough to trigger an explosion within the beast. I managed to crawl out, but as you can imagine I was in bad shape.”

“I spent two days traveling to the nearest settlement before collapsing in the desert. Someone must have taken pity on me when they found me, because I woke up some days later wrapped up in a medic ward.” 

“It took months before I was healed enough to leave, but I had nothing. My ship, my armor, both were missing. My ship was still on Tatooine, mostly untouched by some miracle.”

Your hand comes up to rest on his cheek and he tilts his head into your palm, turning to press a kiss to the skin there. 

“I came across a woman left for dead in the sand, not unlike myself, but she was still alive. She’d been shot by a blaster to her stomach. Fixed her up with some interesting modifications,” he huffs a laugh at this. “She helped me track my armor down. A Mandalorian had acquired it from a town Marshall who’d gotten it from some Jawas.”

He sees your eyes narrow at the mention of the little scavenger creatures. You’ve never liked them. 

“Shand and I helped the Mandalorian retrieve his foundling from some Imps that had taken him hostage. After, we returned to Tatooine. I had a debt to settle.”

“Hutt was long gone but Bib Fortuna sat on his throne. We took over the palace, the syndicate, killing Fortuna and his closest supporters,” he finishes. His hands come up to grasp your face. 

“And then I had to come find you, mesh’la,” he adds with a whisper, drawing your face to his and pressing a kiss to your lips. “Because I told you I would when the job was done.”

You’re smiling up at him and when your brain finally catches up to what he just said. 

“Wait a minute,” you say, drawing away. “You killed Bib Fortuna?”

“Yes,” he says, brow furrowing in confusion. Didn't he just tell you that?

“So...the Hutt palace is yours?”

“Yes?”

“As well as the control of Hutt space?”

He simply nods this time, unsure of where you’re going with this questioning. 

“Boba, are you a fucking  _ crime lord  _ now?” You finish, eyes wide as you stare up at the confused bounty hunter. Or...crime kingpin, you’re not entirely sure what title he takes. 

A laugh bursts out of him unexpectedly. He’s clutching your biceps as he says, “Of all the information I just gave you, that’s the part that gives you pause?” 

“I process shock differently, Boba, leave me be,” you snipe back. One hand comes up to curl around the back of your neck and drag you back into an embrace. 

“Maker, I missed you, hellcat. Thought of you every day,” he whispers. 

“Missed you, too, old man. You left quite an impression.” He pinches your hip in retaliation. You yelp, pulling away from him. He’s smiling down at you when you meet his gaze. 

“Come back with me,” he demands. “A palace needs a queen. As does a king.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

He drags you back to him, planting another soft kiss to your mouth in response. 

**_____________________**

It’s a two day trip on the Slave I back to Tatooine. You spend most of it pestering Boba Fett for more details about himself. He tells you about his childhood, and his status as a clone of the man he regarded as his father. How he wasn’t always a bounty hunter, but had made a name for himself as one with his skills regardless.

You tell him about being raised on Tatooine, how your time on the remote moon he found you on was your first time away from the desert planet. You’d grown up with just your mother, learning healing techniques from her when people from town came by with minor injuries and illnesses. You weren’t the most skilled at it, but you knew enough to get by and supplement the rest of your time working with reprogramming droids.

When you ask him how old he is, he chuckles. 

“Why? Thinking of leaving already?” 

You can sense he’s nervous and you roll your eyes at him. You were already clearly aware that he was older than you. “No, obviously not, curious minds just want answers.”

“And curiosity killed the cat, little one.”

“Surely that cat wasn’t a hellcat,” you laugh. “And you still haven’t answered the question.” You punctuate your statement by kicking your leg out to poke him with the toe of your boot. 

“I’m about 40 years old, I think,” he finally says. You nod, storing the information away. “How old are you, then?”

“I’m 26. See? You’re not even that much older than me!”

“But I’ve lived quite a bit more of life,” he shoots back. An alarm sounds, signaling a drop from hyperspace, and Boba returns his attention to piloting the ship. You sit back, watching him as he messes with the controls. He’s in his element, here in his ship that he’s known his whole life. 

The ship drops from hyperspace and you see the beige planet you once called home for the first time in two years. Boba lands the ship near the palace itself, rather than at a port, and helps you disembark. He’s got his helmet back on, T-visor scanning the surroundings before he leads you through the entrance with a hand at the small of your back. 

The throne room is empty with the exception of a woman who sits at the bar with a data pad and a glass of Spotchka at her elbow. 

“Welcome back,” she says without looking up from her task, finger swiping through the information on the device’s screen. “I was beginning to think you’d died.”

“If the sarlacc couldn’t kill me, what makes you think a trip to a remote village moon would?” 

“Stranger things have happened in the galaxy, Fett,” she replies, head lifting in your direction. “You must be the girl I’ve heard so much about.”

“And you must be the woman I heard about for the first time two days ago,” you reply. Boba barks out a laugh, hand reaching to pinch your hip under your cloak. Fennec smiles, an eyebrow raised at Boba in surprise. 

“She’s cute. Well, welcome. I’ll be on my way, got a man to see about a ship and it’s questionable cargo,” she says, sliding out from her seat and slinging a rifle you hadn’t even noticed over her shoulder. She nods once to Fett, who tips his helmet back in acknowledgment and she’s gone without further preamble. 

“She likes you,” Boba comments, his hand leaving your side as he approaches the bar, rounding to the back of the space and pulling out a bottle of dark amber liquid. He pulls a glass from the shelf, filling it halfway and sliding it over to you. With a smile, you reach out for it, bringing it up for a sip. 

“You remember,” you say over the rim. This whiskey is stronger than what you’d been able to afford that night, that’s for certain.

“Of course I do. I also remember you stabbing a man for touching you and smiling about it,” he says. What he doesn’t say is how much it turned him on to watch you handle yourself so confidently. How chasing after you that night had left him reeling from the kind of adrenaline rush he hadn’t experienced in years. 

You’re laughing, the sound filling up the empty space of the vast room and he smiles beneath the helmet. “The handsy arms dealer, that’s right!”

He leaves his spot behind the bar, coming around to grab you by the hand and move you across the room, towards the dais the large sandstone throne rests on. He leads you up the steps and stops before the structure, so you do as well. 

“Take a seat,” he commands, nudging you forward. You do, one hand clutching your drink as you rest the other on the armrest. It’s a bit of a stretch for you to reach, but you look up at him through your lashes before asking, “How do I look?”

His hands come up, removing his helmet. He places it on the empty armrest before resting both hands on the throne, caging you in. 

“Like a princess,” he growls, head tipped close to yours. 

“I thought I was a queen,” you whisper back as your eyes meet his dark gaze. One hand comes up, roughly grasping the back of your neck. You gasp and his mouth is on you, dominating you in a kiss that steals the breath right from your lungs.

“Not just any queen, cyar’ika,” he pants as he pulls away, reaching to remove your drink from your hand and placing it beside his helmet. He kneels down between your legs, leaving him just slightly below eye level to you. “ _ Mine. _ ”

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and pull him to you in another bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth as you fight for dominance. His hands grab your knees, wrenching them apart and you scoot forward, your core hitting the solid beskar of his chest plate. You moan into his mouth, writhing against him. 

“You’re not cumming on anything but my mouth,” he says, arms coming up to wrap under your knees, hands gripping your thighs as he yanks your ass to the edge of the throne. He immediately presses his mouth to your clothed cunt and your head drops back as you moan. “Bet you’re soaked, huh, hellcat? Can already smell you,” he groans before curling his fingers into your waistband, tearing both your leggings and underwear down to your shins. 

His head is back between your legs before you can blink. You hadn’t gotten a chance to enjoy this particular activity with Boba Fett yet, but his mouth is positively made for sin and you’re panting in anticipation. He takes a moment to just  _ stare  _ at you, and your knees try to close at the attention. His hands are on them immediately, shoving them apart roughly.

“Oh no, sweet thing, none of that,” he taunts. He turns his head, landing a rough bite to the inside of your thigh, causing you to cry out in surprise. “I’m admiring what’s mine.”

He returns his attention to your pussy, licking one rough stripe from your entrance to your clit. A sob rips from your throat at the sensation. 

“Maker, fuck, Boba please,” you whine. He chuckles darkly, mouth so close to where you want it but not giving you anything more.

“Tell me what you want,” he commands.

“Fuck, please touch me!” His grip just tightens on your knees.

“I am touching you, little one, try again.”

“Make me fucking cum, Boba,” you try, teeth gritted in desperation. 

“Closer….”

“Make me fucking cum all over your throne!”

He dives in with no hesitation this time, mouth latching straight to your clit and starting a punishing pace on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re absolutely overwhelmed, his name the only thing you can manage to breathe out as he brings you to your first orgasm in a matter of moments. It shoots through you, lighting you on fire, but he doesn’t stop licking at your folds. 

He pulls away, eyes shooting up to catch your gaze as he eases one thick finger into your channel. You squirm, the stimulation almost too much so soon. Your eyes fall closed as his other arm lays across your hips and halts your movements. 

“Eyes on me, mesh’la, that’s it,” he says as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of you. You whimper but obey, eyes fluttering open to watch him. “There’s my pretty girl. You ready to give me another one?”

You’re confused for a second before his tongue joins his finger at your core. He licks gently at your clit again, focusing his attention inside you this time. You let out a long moan, your thighs shaking against his head. After a moment, he eases a second finger into your soaked cunt, curling them against your front wall. 

“Maker, fuck, that’s so good,” you pant as he just barely grazes that spot inside you that makes you see stars, causing you to whimper.

“Oh is that the spot, little hellcat?” He asks as he pulls both fingers out of your hole. You cry out at the emptiness before he’s plunging three fingers back in, targeting that spot mercilessly. Your eyes widen at the sudden ferocity, struggling against his iron grip. “Fuck, so  _ pretty _ , my little princess. You ready to cum again?”

Your eyes fill with tears and you know you’re saying something but you can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears. “Come on, mesh’la, pretty little thing, let go for me, cum for your king, soak my throne like you said you would,” he groans into your folds. His mouth latches onto your clit, sucking it between his teeth and you’re fucking done for.

You cry out, hand grabbing onto the forearm on your hips, nails digging in as you absolutely  _ gush  _ all over his face and hand. He pulls his mouth away, his hand slowing as he brings you down from your high. You’re desperately trying to breathe, chest heaving from the effort, thighs twitching against his head and shoulders.

Boba removes his fingers, making you whimper. His arm releases its hold from your hip and you slowly remove your fingers from where your nails are digging into his forearm. He ducks his head out from between your legs and your wide eyes track him as he comes to stand in front of you. He crouches, putting one arm under your knees, the other bracing your back as he picks you up from the throne, turning to allow himself to sit and arrange you across his lap, pulling you into his chest.

When he’s satisfied you’re comfortable, his hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you nuzzle into his palm.

“Welcome home, hellcat.”


	2. you should see me in a crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you understand now, cyare?”
> 
> “Hmm?” You hum, tilting your head to look up at his face. He kisses your palm.
> 
> “I would destroy anyone in this galaxy for you. You’re mine, and I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”
> 
> Alternatively: Reader gets jealous and Boba proves there's no one else for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some sin. Thanks for reading!

You’d spent the bulk of your day with Boba, getting shown around the palace to the sections that you were welcome to and being warned away from those you weren’t, which mostly included the lower level holding cells. After your tour, he’d sent you off to the market with a pile of credits and instructions to get what you needed to be comfortable in your new home and not to come back until he and Fennec were done meeting.

Two hours and a satchel of new clothing and bath oil later, you’re wandering back through the palace to find the bedchamber that Boba had showed you earlier that day. You hadn’t seen the bounty hunter as you entered, but the noise of the throne room filters through as you cross the sitting room your bedchamber branches from. 

You dump the pile of clothes on the bed. Most of it is the typical utilitarian pants and tunics expected on Tatooine, various shades of white and brown to prevent overheating in the unforgiving desert. However, you had stumbled across a vendor that boasted a new shipment of clothing from Coruscant, full of luxe dresses that most locals of Tatooine wouldn’t be able to afford, nor care to waste credits on. You picked out two dresses from the vendor’s offerings, one of which you’re holding now in your hands as you debate whether to put it on. Boba hadn’t mentioned anything about joining him in the throne room during court, but he hadn’t explicitly told you  _ not  _ to go in there, either. 

You take a quick shower in the attached fresher, scrubbing the sand and sweat from your skin. You shut off the water, exiting the shower stall to dry off and pick up the dress again. It’s a sleek, floor length black number with sleeves that come to you mid-forearm, a low neckline, and an even lower back. The fabric shimmers in the light and feels smooth to the touch, heavy in its opulence but light on the skin. You pull it on, fixing it in place before turning to the mirror. 

Well, you think, if Boba wants a queen, you’re certainly looking the part. The vendor with the dresses had thrown in a tube of lip paint with your purchase, a deep red color that looked like sin paired with the dress. Your hair is brushed out around your shoulders and as you take in your reflection you can’t help but smile. 

You’d grown up on Tatooine, scrounging for credits repairing droids or providing what healing services you could just to survive. Ever since you were a child, you’d been referred to as a handful. You have a sharp tongue and a fire in your eyes that translated into trouble as you became an adult, but it all seems to have worked out in your favor thus far. 

With a final glance at your reflection, you grab your cloak and leave the room, tugging the clasp in place around your neck. Rather than enter the throne room from the dais, you opt to enter through the main corridor. It’s late when you finally enter the throne room and the space is packed with all manner of creatures drinking and working to fill the space with noise. As you expect with a gathering of the galaxy’s most dangerous, a variety of weapons litter the surfaces of the stone tables, placed strategically next to drinks as a warning to other patrons. 

Boba Fett is sitting on his throne, armor on and legs spread wide, looking every inch a man in command. A group of mercs is standing in front of him, making their argument for assistance from the syndicate. It’s the first time Fett has held court since his takeover, and all levels of criminals want to win his favor. One of the men has a pretty woman draped on his arm, decked out in a skintight suit with cut outs the display her pearlescent skin in the dim light of the room. 

You’re at the bar now, a glass of whiskey in one hand that a pretty Twi’lek had poured you with a wink and a toothy grin that you can’t help but return. She’s leaning on the bar chatting with you when Fennec makes space for herself beside you. 

“Didn't expect to see you here, princess,” she says before requesting a glass of garish green liquor from the bartender. “Thought Fett would have kept you bundled up safe and sound.” 

“He didn’t say I couldn’t be here,” you gripe back, pouting at her. She laughs, tossing back her beverage without so much as a wince. 

“Just be careful. Lots of seedy figures roaming around today trying to kiss his ass and get a deal struck,” she says seriously, clapping a hand to your shoulder. “Don’t want him to have to kill someone on the first night for looking at you funny.” With that, she turns to leave, and the bartender returns in front of you with her eyebrows raised. 

“So you’re Fett’s girl, huh? Rumor was he’d already released the slaves Fortuna had, we’d been wondering why,” she says. That makes you pause. Your impression of Boba so far had certainly been that he was no doubt enamored with you, but in the back of your mind you had begun to wonder how long that would last for. He’s a powerful crime lord, has a reputation to uphold that you can’t even begin to comprehend, and everything that you knew of the previous leaders of the Hutt clan had implied that a revolving door of women was just one of the many perks of power. 

She moves on to help another patron and you take the opportunity to leave the bar, weaving through the crowd to stand by a wall close to the throne dais but hidden in shadow. Boba’s attention is still taken by the mercenaries, but the woman who had been wrapped around one of the men has taken up a place on the throne dais, kneeled close to Boba’s leg with her face turned up to stare at him. 

Your pulse starts to race and your eyes narrow over the rim of your glass as you force another sip of whiskey down. She’s not touching him, thank the Maker, but it does little to settle the anger that's washed over you so suddenly. 

And isn’t  _ that _ interesting? Everything with Boba has been a whirlwind, from your first meeting to standing here in the man’s palace, it really shouldn’t surprise you that he’s somehow managed to wrap a hand around your heart and take it for his own. 

The woman shuffles closer to his leg, one hand coming up to rest on a beskar clad thigh, head tipping to lay a cheek on the surface as well. Boba doesn’t acknowledge the touch but you feel your chest tighten watching her nuzzle into him. You think it’s about time to let Boba know you’re here. 

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you make your way to the far side of the dais, ascending the stairs. Boba doesn’t miss the movement, his helmet turning to take you in. His audience hasn’t seemed to notice they’ve lost his attention, so you reach up and unclasp your cloak from your neck, letting it fall to the floor.

His gaze stays fixed on you as he raises one gloved hand, curling his index finger to beckon you closer. The woman kneeled at his side looks up at the motion, head turning in your direction. You meet her glare, smirking as you approach Boba’s side. His hand comes up to grasp your chin. The groups of people gathered closest to the throne go quiet as Boba turns his helmet to the woman at his foot and lets out a gruff, “Leave.”

She scrambles off the dais, rejoining the mercenaries. His hand shifts from your chin, trailing down your neck and shoulder before he reaches to grasp your hand and pull you around to stand in front of him. With your back to the rest of the room, he brings his hand to graze the exposed skin of your clavicle, drawing it down the exposed skin of your breasts that your neckline presents for him. 

“You shouldn’t be in here, little one,” he says, helmet tilted up to look at you. 

“Oh, am I interrupting something then?” You spit out with a little more venom than you had intended. Beneath the helmet, Boba lifts an eyebrow at your tone. Technically, yes, you were interrupting a negotiation, but he has a feeling that’s not what's got you looking down at him like that. He wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you into his lap. 

“Yes, you were. Those fine gentlemen are here on behalf of the Tolorna group, who had previously declined any work for the Hutts,” he says. He grips the back of your neck with one hand as the other grips at your thigh. “But I don’t think that’s what’s got your claws out, hellcat.”

You’re glaring at the T-visor, jaw clenched in fury that he’s teasing you about this. Just yesterday he had been eating you out on this very throne and calling you  _ his.  _ You don’t say anything back, just hold your gaze to where you imagine his is inside the helmet. 

“Listen to me. You’re going to be a good girl and go back to the bedchamber and wait for me in this pretty little dress while I finish up my business here,” he says, thumb rubbing a soothing circle on your neck. “And then, princess, I’ll show you just how inconsequential any other woman in this galaxy is to me,” he finished with a growl, tipping your head forward to rest his helmet to your forehead. 

“Okay,” you whisper back after a shaky inhale. He releases his grip on you, holding a hand to help you stand. He squeezes once before you pull away, heading towards the sitting room entrance behind the throne and making your way back to the bedchamber.

It takes Boba about 20 minutes to finish up with his negotiations and pass responsibility to Fennec to maintain order until the patrons leave. When he enters the room, you’re sitting at the edge of the large bed with your legs crossed, reclined back on your hands.

He doesn’t say anything as he approaches you, pulling his gloves off and tossing them to the side. Once he’s near enough to touch, his hands come up to remove his helmet. The kriffing bastard is smirking as he places it next to you on the bed. You raise an eyebrow at him, otherwise keeping your face impassive. 

“That was quite the display, little one,” he says, threading a hand through your hair and tugging you to sit up straight. The action brings your face level to his codpiece and he eases his hold on you, bringing his hand down to trace and cup your jaw. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, but you otherwise give no other reaction. He steps back, removing the codpiece, before coming to stand with his legs bracketing your crossed ones. “I want you to get your hands on my cock. Go on.”

Licking your lips, you bring your hands to his pants, fumbling with the closure and tugging to bring them down. His cock is already hard, flushed a dark rosy pink and smeared at the tip with a pearl of pre-cum. You wrap one hand around his length, looking up at him through your lashes as he hisses out a breath. 

“I want to make one thing clear, cyar’ika,” he starts, fingers coming back to your hair and giving a sharp tug to tilt your head back, “you are the only woman whose attention I am interested in having. You have owned me since that first night.”

The sentiment has your eyes burning with unshed tears. Stars, this man has owned you since then as well and you can hardly believe that he feels as strongly as you do.

“Now, pretty thing, I want you to suck my cock. Get it nice and ready for your pretty little pussy,” he commands, dragging your mouth to his length. You don’t hesitate, diving in to take him as deep into your mouth as you can. His cock is so thick it makes your jaw ache with the effort, but you take him as far into your throat as you can before you gag. As you pull back, he lets out a deep groan. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

The praise makes your heart soar as you take him back into your mouth, setting a rhythm using your hand on what you can’t manage. The fingers on your scalp start clenching and when you next pull back, he tugs you off. There are tear tracks on your cheeks and your lip paint is smudged to hell in the corners of your swollen lips but maker, Boba Fett has never seen a prettier sight in his life. 

“Get out of that dress,” he demands, stepping back to give you room to stand as his hands work quickly to remove the rest of his armor and suit. You shimmy the fabric down your hips, eyes locked on the bounty hunter as he exposes more of his own skin to your hungry gaze. He stalks forward, sweeping one arm around your waist and lifting you against his body before turning to sit on the bed and roughly grabbing your legs up to straddle his lap. 

His cock drags against your soaked folds and you gasp, hands flying to wrap around his broad shoulders. “My sweet girl, how could you even doubt for a second that it’s only you,” he growls against your throat. His hands grip your ass, pulling you down against his length and your head tips back with a broken moan. 

His teeth catch the skin of your throat, nipping a series of bruises into your flesh. You bring a hand to his jaw, pulling him into a desperate kiss as your hips build a rhythm. 

“Stars, Boba, I’m gonna cum,” you groan, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet, princess, are you that desperate for me?” 

“Mhmmm. Always.”

He moves to shift further up the bed, interrupting your grinding and your efforts towards release. You whine as he moves out from beneath you to lay back on the pillows. He holds a hand out to you as he says, “Come here.”

You grip his hand as you go to straddle his hips again, but he tugs you higher up. You end up positioned on his abdomen, staring down into his eyes as he smirks up at you. His fingertips trail gently up and down your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“I want you to sit on my face, mesh’la. Wrap these pretty thighs around my head and let me make you scream,” he whispers. The blood rushes to your face and you’re still for a moment before your brain manages to register what he just said and you scramble up his body. He’s laughing at your enthusiasm as you get your knees to either side of his head and you smile down at him. 

“Well, old man, get to it,” you say lightly, eyebrows raised at him. He lands a hard smack to your ass before his hands grip your hips to tug you down to his mouth. 

And  _ stars  _ his mouth is magic. 

He starts with broad strokes across your whole cunt, drinking in your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit with the movement and you bite your lip to stifle a loud moan. 

Your effort is practically for nothing as he moves his attention to the bundle of nerves, lips wrapping around it with a hard suck followed by the rough edge of his teeth. You cry out at the sensation and he groans into you, devouring you ferociously, like you’re the greatest thing he’s ever gotten his mouth on.

It doesn’t take long for his attention to get you to your peak, and when you glance down and find him gazing up at you between your thighs, you shatter on his sinful tongue. 

He’s licking you through your release and the stimulation makes you twitch as you slump forward against the pillows behind him. You shift your weight off of him, crawling back down his body to lay out against his chest and press a kiss to his lips. 

“I’m not done with you, princess,” he says against your lips. He bucks his hips, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your swollen cunt and you squirm against him. “Get on my cock. Wanna feel you.”

You leave one more kiss to him before pushing up against his chest and positioning yourself over his leaking member. You rub your folds against him teasingly for a moment and his head tips back with a groan. 

“Don’t tease, little hellcat,” he grits out, wrapping a hand around your waist to stop your movement. You lift up on your knees, reaching back to grasp his cock and position it at your entrance before you sink down slowly, mouth dropping open at the stretch. 

“Maker, so fucking big, Boba,” you moan. It feels like forever before your hips meet his, his cock stuffed so deep inside you it makes you see stars. His hands trailing across your waist and thighs, petting at your skin. When you look down at his face, his eyes lock on yours. 

“My pretty little hellcat,” he whispers reverently. Maker, you’re so gone for this man who could raze a whole galaxy without pause but looks at you like you could destroy  _ him. _ You circle your hips and he lets out a moan at the sensation of your cunt squeezing around his length. “Come on, cyar’ika, fuck yourself on my cock.”

You lean forward to plant a hand beside his head, allowing you the space to set a pace on his member that has you breathless in no time. Boba tugs your face down to his in a bruising kiss, his tongue coming out to stroke against yours. You feel surrounded by this man, your mouth and cunt claimed by him as the hand clutching your face moves to wrap around your throat to claim the very very breath from your lungs. 

“Oh fuck, Boba, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you pant against him. The hand on your throat tightens as his other arm wraps around your lower back and slams you down on his cock.

“Then fucking cum for me,” he spits out. 

And who are you to disobey Boba Fett?

Your limbs lock up as your pussy clenches, desperate to keep him as deep as possible. His hips give a few more harsh thrusts before he’s filling you with his spend, hand releasing your throat as you collapse against his chest. 

You’re both trying to catch your breath and you’re covered in a sheen of sweat. He’s got one hand on the back of your head while the other reaches out to grasp one of your own, bringing it to his lips.

“Do you understand now, cyare?”

“Hmm?” You hum, tilting your head to look up at his face. He kisses your palm.

“I would destroy anyone in this galaxy for you. You’re mine, and I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

You’re smiling as you lay your hand over his heart, letting it’s steady beat lull you to sleep. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the sin. This series continues to pour out of my brain and I'm not going to stop until I reintroduce Mando to the mix again. My apologies if I got any of the canon stuff wrong, I'm a pretty casual fan and do my best.
> 
> If there's anything you'd like to see, please comment. I'm open to prompts for simp Boba and Mando.


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